The Best Worst Day of his Life

Many thanks to AlixMaret for purchasing this for the Fandom Gives Back (yes, she bought two!) Also thanks to Detochkina for always being up for a WC. Both of them pointed out some errors and made helpful suggestions for which I am grateful, but any mistakes are mine.

By the way, there are a few people who have bought outtakes and as far as I know haven't decided what they want. If you told me and I forgot, please forgive me and tell me again. I am a dunderhead.

Kreisler - La Gitana

youtube(DOT)com/watch?v=gAZp6RIPHds

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"Come on, now. Not today."

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The key turned but his truck engine wouldn't start. Jasper Whitlock had 30 minutes to get to the post office if he was going to make it to campus on time. It was about five million degrees outside, and the black leather steering wheel was too hot to touch for more than 3 seconds.

He took out his cell and looked up one of the other grad students who owed him a favor. The first didn't answer, but fortunately, he had lots of friends. The third person on his list picked up. He looked at her name on the display as she answered, and was happy to see it was his room-mate's girlfriend, who was like a sister to him.

"Sarah, thank God," he said. "I've got a situation that has to be handled today and my truck won't start. Can you cover my 3 O'clock review until I get there? You were a TA for Warbeck's class last semester, right?"

"Sure, but she's going to beat you to a pulp if she finds out," Sarah replied. "She fucking hates me."

"I have a hard time believing that."

"What, that she hates me, or that you'll get in trouble?"

"First, I find it impossible to believe that anyone could hate you. What did you do, insult the Renaissance?"

"Dude, she's part of that Early Music cult. They can't be reasoned with."

Jasper laughed, in spite of his situation.

"Baby girl, if you want to get anywhere in academia you need to learn how to tactfully question, rather than go straight into verbal fisticuffs with a tenured professor."

"How do you make the political stuff look so easy without looking like a kiss-ass?"

"I just pay attention. The cartoons on their office doors usually give everything away. If someone has a huge cartoon titled Where's Gesualdo, you probably want to tread lightly, you know?"

"Good to know, way too late."

"It's never too late to start loving the sackbutt. Listen, you usually take the bus, right? Do you know if the Cameron Road shuttle runs on time?"

"Iffy. This time of day it comes every twenty minutes or so. Don't worry, I'll cover you till you get here."

"Thanks, Sarah, I owe you one."

He sighed, hanging up. One problem down, five hundred more to go. This was absolutely the worst day for his truck to crap out on him. An old student newspaper wedged on the passenger's side under a pile of library books had the bus route on it, and he studied it as he grabbed his stuff to take off.

Jasper kicked his door shut, a move that caught his book bag, breaking the strap and sending papers flying everywhere.

"Calm the fuck down, man," he said to himself, gathering the notes and sheet music that had fallen. "It's no big deal."

And it wasn't, that is, until a hot breeze picked up one particular sheet of paper on which he could see the official seal of the University of Texas. The seal told him that it was a critical piece from a set of forms he desperately needed for his applications for doctoral programs.

"Dammit!"

He threw down the bag and chased the fluttering thing half a block before it slipped down into a drain, gone in a flood of cursing, along with his dream of getting a doctorate from an Ivy League school.

JA

Thirty minutes later, he was also missing all of his keys and most of his temper, and decided to at least get back to campus and salvage something of the day. He felt raw, emotionally and physically from his failed attempt to retrieve his documents and a fruitless search in the road and grass for his keys. He had a little scrape on his face from where it had met blistering hot pavement, and the heat of the day had drained him of any desire to do anything but find a cool room and a cold beer.

Until he heard the music.

It was a single violin, melancholic and sultry, just like his mood. Just at the moment he felt the sound connect with his soul in commiseration, it lifted him back up again, both soothing and invigorating.

He had to know who was playing, and he followed the sound instead of the map to the bus route.

The tune was clear, but very strong, and the fingering was wickedly fast. He thought it had to be someone from the music school, and thus likely someone he knew, at least a little. Whoever the violinist was certainly had solid technique, but that wasn't the part that compelled him. There was something stronger than technique- it was a kind of playfulness that he found irresistible. The sound of it pulled him closer- he felt drawn like a snake by a charmer's tune.

He smiled with relief to see that the music was coming from the bus stop he was looking for. A little crowd of students was around the violinist, by now he could see it was a girl. She was short enough to be in high school, a prodigy maybe? He could just make out the flash of her bow, a thin but toned arm, and the slight swish of a long skirt. He had to walk around the crowd to finally see her face, and when he did he knew he had never seen this girl before.

She was drop-dead gorgeous, and there was no doubt he would have remembered her, if he'd had any meaningful interaction with her. From this vantage point he thought she looked old enough to be an upper classman, or even a graduate student, like himself.

She played with passion, a little smile suggested at the corners of her mouth. Her long, inky hair fell in heavy locks around her shoulders, and he wondered if it felt as silky as it looked. With her dark hair and expressive face, she reminded him every bit of a gypsy. She even dressed like one, at least as much as the weather would allow.

She turned slightly, and their eyes met. Hers widened, as if she recognized him, and Jasper worried for a moment. Had they met? Was she one of the three hundred or so students in the Music History class for which he was a TA?

Please God, not that, he prayed silently, looking at her perfect mouth, which was now curved into the sweetest, sexiest smile he'd ever seen. Anything but that. Just let this one thing go right today and I won't complain about anything else.

The crowd started moving, and he broke eye contact long enough to spot the bus arriving. She finished just as it pulled up to the curb in front of them, and bent down to pocket the few dollars and change her audience had thrown into her violin case.

Jasper hung back so he'd be getting on the bus behind her, and she flashed him the most amazing smile when he politely indicated she should get on first. He felt sucker-punched by the sincerity of her expression, how happiness just seemed to radiate out of her whole being. The bus driver, a much older woman, noticed their exchange, and winked at him.

"Ma'am," he nodded at her politely, as the door shut behind him with a pneumatic wheeze.

The bus was too packed for any of them to find seats, and she held her violin to her midsection like it was a security blanket with one hand as she held on to the back of a seat with the other.

"Kreisler?" he asked, and she looked up at him in surprise. "La Gitana, right? The gypsy? It suits you."

"How did you know that? It's pretty obscure."

"I'm in musicology; history's my thing," he explained. "You're really good."

"Thanks," she blushed as the bus lurched unpleasantly.

Jasper was tall enough to lay his hand flat on the interior roof of the bus to steady himself, and stood as close as he could without getting into her personal space. Unfortunately the guy behind her, a squirrely-looking guy with the ubiquitous uniform of fraternity guys everywhere- white t-shirt with greek letters in burnt orange, khaki shorts and a UT baseball cap- didn't have the same scruples, and seemed to be trying to use the crowded bus as an excuse for some nonconsensual frottage.

In other words, he was trying to dry hump this sweet girl right on the monkeyfuckin' bus, and Jasper was going to have to do something. Preferably, something that didn't get him arrested, as satisfying as that might have been.

She kept scooting away and closer to Jasper, but the guy behind her just kept crowdeing her even further. Jasper wanted to glare at him, but the jerk wouldn't look anywhere but at his cell, his smarmy fingers texting rapidly even as he used every sway of the bus as an excuse to jostle her and get closer until there was pretty much no room for Jesus between them.

She flashed Jasper a look of distress, and he nodded, taking this as permission from her to fix the situation. He nodded in the direction he was going to move, and wordlessly, seamlessly, they changed places, moving in a tight pivot.

He stepped between them, which meant elbowing the guy in his soft middle section and stepping firmly on his foot.

"What the fuck?" the little turd yelped. Jasper glared at him until the douche looked like he was about to piss in his over-priced cargo shorts. "That was my foot, man!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't see you there," he quasi-apologized in a menacing voice. "You know how that can happen sometimes- you don't see someone and then bam, you accidentally punch their lights out. Happens all the time."

It wasn't something he liked to think about, but he had something of a temper, and had gotten into more than his fair share of fistfights over the years. If he was angry enough, he had no qualms about fighting, and this kid had really pissed him off.

The guy looked at him, hard, but apparently whatever he saw made him back down, muttering and turning his attention back to his phone. In Jasper's experience, most frat guys didn't fight unless they were with their friends, and this one was no exception. He didn't hesitate to use his height to intimidate the guy, and kept glaring at him until the guy turned away, obviously trying to pretend like nothing had happened. Jasper's blood was still up, and he had half a mind to take it out on the creep until he felt a little tug on the back of his shirt.

His gypsy violinist's eyes had appeared almost black, but the bright sunlight revealed them to be, in fact, a deep indigo blue. She gave him another smile, this time small and tentative, full of apologies. It made his stomach hurt, because she obviously wasn't used to people treating her with common fucking courtesy.

"Thanks," she whispered. "I owe you one."

"You don't owe me anything. That guy was being a dick," he informed her, not lowering his voice, but not shouting, either. "Some guys act like they're in a damn strip club 24/7. They should know better."

"Damn straight," said a girl with blond dreadlocks and a nose-ring, briefly looking up from a thick library book.

Bless Austin and its counter-culture.

The bus beeped a few times and slowed to a halt. The dick in question got off, neither at the stop nor in the manner he would have preferred.

"I appreciate it anyway," the violinist continued. "I'm Alice, by the way. Alice Brandon."

She shifted her violin case to hold out her right hand. Her skin was soft but her grip surprisingly firm, and her touch was doing things to him. He was close enough to smell her subtle perfume, something sweet and seductive.

"Alice Brandon," even her name tasted sweet on his tongue. "I'm Jasper-"

"Whitlock, I know," she grinned sheepishly.

His face fell.

"You're not in my music history section, are you? Renaissance to Baroque?"

"No, that's next year," she said, to his great relief. "If I make it past theory, that is. We're only a few weeks in and it's freakin' killing me. The prof is an ass, and I'm thinking of transferring if it doesn't get any better. I was offered a full scholarship at a good music school in the Pacific Northwest. I don't even know why I just had to come here of all places, but it seemed like a good idea at the time."

Jasper wanted to argue that it still seemed like a good idea from where he was standing. In fact, he had a few good ideas of his own, but he didn't want to scare her off just yet.

"Sounds like you need a good tutor."

"Do you happen to know any?"

"I'm better at teaching history than theory," he said, scratching the scruff at his jawline. "But I could definitely help you get through it if you're willing to put in some extra time."

She looked at him speculatively, and Jasper straightened his posture without realizing it.

"What would you charge? I can't afford much right now."

"I was thinking maybe we could do more of an exchange, you know, you teach me, I teach you? I've always wanted to learn the violin." It was more of an exaggeration than an outright lie. Jasper wanted to learn an instrument, but hadn't truly decided between violin and cello until that moment.

They were interrupted as the bus pulled up to the music school and they jostled their way out. Jasper was a little worried that she wasn't interested enough to take him up on the idea, but she turned to him and with one look completely dispelled that notion.

"I don't have my schedule on me right now," she said, her red lips curving into a completely new smile. This one reminded him of candy apples and the state fair. "Maybe you should give me your phone number?"

He grinned and pulled out his phone, only to find a fresh crack in the display screen.

"Tough break," she observed, whisking it from his hand like a pickpocket. He raised his eyebrows when the sound of a Bach violin partita came out of her violin case. "On the bright side, it still seems to work. I'm late for rehearsal. Call me and we can work it out, okay?"

Jasper felt rooted to the spot, watching her in fascination as she started walking quickly toward the orchestra door. As if she felt his eyes on her back, she turned again, and waved, her grin brighter than the sun.

Sarah came out of the double doors to the main hall in front of him, carrying an intimidatingly large stack of papers. She followed his gaze and looked at him curiously, shoving the stack unceremoniously into his waiting hands.

"Surprise, just what you always wanted. Warbeck stopped by and decided you get to grade for all sections. Can't say I didn't warn you. Oh man, you broke your cellphone too? Sounds like your day just keeps getting better and better."

"No good to bitch about it." He chuckled and shook his head slowly, still staring at the door Alice Brandon had just walked through. "I'd say the silver lining was bigger than the cloud in this case."

Sarah poked him in the side.

"Alice Brandon, huh? I've heard her play. Amazing talent, but she's kind of weird, isn't she?"

"I don't think she's weird at all," Jasper frowned at his friend. "I think she's great."

Sarah's eyebrows shot up, but her expression softened.

"Hey, I don't really know her, but I trust your judgement. Looks like today wasn't a total wash after all. You want to talk about it?"

"Sometimes everything happens at once, you know? Let's go find that boyfriend of yours and I'll buy a round. I may need your advice."